As the debate rages over how much governmental regulation is too much, I recall my first personal encounter with that bullying Federal bureaucracy.
Forty-five years ago, I spent summer working in a meat packing house. The intent was to demonstrate my fate should I flunk out of college. "It's either beer, babes, and books or blood, beef, and bologna, your choice!"
The FDA regulates meat packing. We never knew when he was coming, but at least once every week, the inspector would appear. He would check general sanitation, take temperature readings and pull samples for lab analysis. It didn't prevent us from exercising our Constitutional right to soak the wooden barrels so Oscar Mayer got 370 instead of 375 pounds of meat in each one or add 30 instead of 25 pounds of salt to each barrel going to Seltzer's Lebanon Bologna. It didn't even cause us to throw out the morning's quota of hamburger when Old Smokey lost a fingertip in the grinder and didn't realize it until lunchtime. Smokey's fingertips were all scar tissue anyway.
It did stop us from slipping sliced beef lungs into the bottom of the barrel though and we had to show that we were throwing out the bones, suet, and spoiled meat in order to keep our precious "USDA Approved" seal. By the way, the FDA required that the seal be dipped in concentrated grape juice to make its mark. To this day, I can't look Welch's Concord Grape Jelly in the eye without my stomach turning.
In short, the government infringed on our right to maximize our profit, but it served the public good.
Last Friday, BP's drilling permit application for that well in the Gulf was made public. BP stated that a blow-out was "unlikely" and they had a Blow-Out Preventer planned anyway. The government granted the permit and everyone apparently went out for a beer afterwards. Those interfering bureaucrats failed to ask, "Unlikely as it is, what if the Preventer fails? Maybe you could put a redundant BOP in there or test the first one at the depths and pressures that it will experience. If Blow Out Preventers can't handle the conditions they will experience, how about drilling that "relief well" in parallel with the original instead of months after the first one fails and we give the Gulf Coast an oil bath?"
Old Smokey's fingertip floating in someone's chili is one thing. Wiping out the Louisiana Coast is another.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
The Zac Effect
Last night's Freddy Awards marked the end of an era in local high school theater.
Previously, the ladies dominated. The highlight of the Freddys was always the "sing-off" between the six nominees for Outstanding Lead Performance by an Actress. Those years of voice lessons paid off. Each was better than the last. Simon Cowell would be doing backflips by the time the last girl sang.
The guys were somewhat less inspiring. Their "sing-off" would have a couple of decent performances, but a high school kid really can't do a convincing "If I Were A Rich Man". Simon would be at his snarkiest in reviewing their effort.
The 2010 Freddies broke that paradigm. The guys were at least as good as the girls last night. There can only be one explanation - The Zac Efron Effect. These kids grew up with "High School Musical". For the first time, it was cool for guys to sing on stage. You can be the star of the basketball team, but you won't smooching Vanessa Hudgins unless you can sing. "Your head may be in the game, but your heart must be in the song" as the lyric goes.
It took innumerable repeats of the three "High School Musical" movies on Disney Channel, but the revolution finally reached Lehigh Valley high school stages. Guys, it's OK to trade a spot on the basketball team bench for a lead role in the play. Your teammates / castmates will be better-looking and smell a whole lot better, too. Plus, would you rather do wind sprints after school or sing scales? It's a no-brainer.
I spent my high school days as a mediocre athlete and had essentially zero social life. Had the Zac Effect been in force way back then, I might have devoted my energies to the stage and walked the halls hand-in-hand with some luscious babe from the cast. It could have changed my life.
Previously, the ladies dominated. The highlight of the Freddys was always the "sing-off" between the six nominees for Outstanding Lead Performance by an Actress. Those years of voice lessons paid off. Each was better than the last. Simon Cowell would be doing backflips by the time the last girl sang.
The guys were somewhat less inspiring. Their "sing-off" would have a couple of decent performances, but a high school kid really can't do a convincing "If I Were A Rich Man". Simon would be at his snarkiest in reviewing their effort.
The 2010 Freddies broke that paradigm. The guys were at least as good as the girls last night. There can only be one explanation - The Zac Efron Effect. These kids grew up with "High School Musical". For the first time, it was cool for guys to sing on stage. You can be the star of the basketball team, but you won't smooching Vanessa Hudgins unless you can sing. "Your head may be in the game, but your heart must be in the song" as the lyric goes.
It took innumerable repeats of the three "High School Musical" movies on Disney Channel, but the revolution finally reached Lehigh Valley high school stages. Guys, it's OK to trade a spot on the basketball team bench for a lead role in the play. Your teammates / castmates will be better-looking and smell a whole lot better, too. Plus, would you rather do wind sprints after school or sing scales? It's a no-brainer.
I spent my high school days as a mediocre athlete and had essentially zero social life. Had the Zac Effect been in force way back then, I might have devoted my energies to the stage and walked the halls hand-in-hand with some luscious babe from the cast. It could have changed my life.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
With a Z
Half the fun of being a sports fan is ruminating on the names of the athletes. In baseball, Derek Jeter is a strong moniker. The guy has to be good. Someone named Josh Willingham should be lounging alongside the first tee at the country club as opposed to being in the batting cage. In football, Quentin Jammer is an all-Pro defensive back. With a tough-sounding name like that, receivers run the other way to avoid him. Fellow footballer Chad Pennington is an oft-injured quarterback who is about as scary as Ty Pennington building homes for the downtrodden. In hockey, our Flyers would not be in the Stanley Cup finals without Chris Pronger. "Keep your head up on the ice, or Chris will "prong" you." Michel "Bunny" LaRoque never won a Cup as goalie for the Canadiens though his would be a great name for an exotic dancer. While listening to Sports Radio yesterday, I heard what may be the Greatest Sports Name Of All Time. Hercules Gomez was among those chosen for the US World Cup soccer team. Now there's a name. I envisioned a bearded giant clad in a lion skin and carrying a giant club - the classic Hercules. Or perhaps the muscular movie star of the 50s whose dialogue never quite matched his lip movements - Steve Reeves. Or even the sensitive, though still "ripped" 90s TV Hercules - Kevin Sorbo. Any of these three Hercules would totally intimidate those wimpy foreigners and bring the World Cup to The Land of the Free.
My hopes were shattered when today's newspaper showed the actual spelling of Mr Gomez's name. It's Herculez, with a z. He might as well be named Britney, Caitlyn, or Krystal. Unique name spelling may raise a child's sense of self-worth ("I'm different from all the other Brittany(s) in my class!") but it does not intimidate on the field of play. The last great hope for American soccer is foiled by a single "z".
My hopes were shattered when today's newspaper showed the actual spelling of Mr Gomez's name. It's Herculez, with a z. He might as well be named Britney, Caitlyn, or Krystal. Unique name spelling may raise a child's sense of self-worth ("I'm different from all the other Brittany(s) in my class!") but it does not intimidate on the field of play. The last great hope for American soccer is foiled by a single "z".
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
View With Alarm
Most any occurrence can be "viewed with alarm" to advance a particular point of view.
A local family awakened Monday morning to find a bear and three cubs rooting about the birdfeeders in the front yard of their suburban home. Animal Control, police, and the news media gathered. After two and a half hours, the bears were humanely removed.
The next day's newspaper showed the gun lobby "viewing with alarm" - "This is why we need a bear hunting season in New Jersey! Soon bruins will be marching down our suburban streets hungry not for sunflower seeds, but for small children!" Environmentalists also viewed with alarm - "Our ursine friends have nowhere else to go now that their habitat is paved over with housing developments and strip malls! Until Petco stocks bear kibble and Mama Bear makes a decent wage so she can afford it, this will continue. We must restore wilderness areas."
I also have a cause to advance - the pathetic state of the modern household pet. According to the newspaper article, "The family dog, Sophie (great name that), couldn't be bothered. After a couple of obligatory barks when she spotted the bears outside the window, Sophie went to a back room to lie down."
I therefore view with alarm. This is a prime example of what is wrong with 21st century text-messaging, on-line game playing, slacker pets! Back in the 50s, we had Lassie rescuing Timmy and/or Gramps from the abandoned well each and every week. We had Rin Tin Tin holding off the Apache horde until Lt Rip Masters and the cavalry could save those homesteaders. More to the point, we had Old Yeller giving his life to protect Tommy Kirk from that cougar (back when cougars were man-eating cats as opposed to man-eating middle-aged divorcees).
Now those were dogs that earned their Alpo! Lassie, Rinty, or Old Yeller wouldn't give a couple of obligatory barks and then take a nap when faced with a bear in their front yard. They might get mauled, but they would protect that precious bird seed. As Doctor Phil would warn, "Pet owners, you are the enablers. Take away those cell phones from your pets. Limit their computer time to Obedience School assignments. Make sure the entire family eats meals together. Your pet will thank you for it, and eventually so will the bears as Fido sets boundaries for them."
A local family awakened Monday morning to find a bear and three cubs rooting about the birdfeeders in the front yard of their suburban home. Animal Control, police, and the news media gathered. After two and a half hours, the bears were humanely removed.
The next day's newspaper showed the gun lobby "viewing with alarm" - "This is why we need a bear hunting season in New Jersey! Soon bruins will be marching down our suburban streets hungry not for sunflower seeds, but for small children!" Environmentalists also viewed with alarm - "Our ursine friends have nowhere else to go now that their habitat is paved over with housing developments and strip malls! Until Petco stocks bear kibble and Mama Bear makes a decent wage so she can afford it, this will continue. We must restore wilderness areas."
I also have a cause to advance - the pathetic state of the modern household pet. According to the newspaper article, "The family dog, Sophie (great name that), couldn't be bothered. After a couple of obligatory barks when she spotted the bears outside the window, Sophie went to a back room to lie down."
I therefore view with alarm. This is a prime example of what is wrong with 21st century text-messaging, on-line game playing, slacker pets! Back in the 50s, we had Lassie rescuing Timmy and/or Gramps from the abandoned well each and every week. We had Rin Tin Tin holding off the Apache horde until Lt Rip Masters and the cavalry could save those homesteaders. More to the point, we had Old Yeller giving his life to protect Tommy Kirk from that cougar (back when cougars were man-eating cats as opposed to man-eating middle-aged divorcees).
Now those were dogs that earned their Alpo! Lassie, Rinty, or Old Yeller wouldn't give a couple of obligatory barks and then take a nap when faced with a bear in their front yard. They might get mauled, but they would protect that precious bird seed. As Doctor Phil would warn, "Pet owners, you are the enablers. Take away those cell phones from your pets. Limit their computer time to Obedience School assignments. Make sure the entire family eats meals together. Your pet will thank you for it, and eventually so will the bears as Fido sets boundaries for them."
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Oh, Canada!
With Memorial Day right around the corner and 90 degree temperatures forecast for later this week, the sports fan's thoughts naturally turn toward ice hockey. Except for the Olympics, we pretty much ignored the sport all winter long, but what better way to spend a steamy May evening than in a packed arena over a melting expanse of ice watching a bunch of Canadians batter each other senseless.
There are certain proud, uniquely Canadian traditions involved in the NHL playoffs:
Playoff beards - To promote team unity, the players refuse to shave until their team is eliminated. In years past, coaches attempted to enforce a "no sex during the playoffs" rule. Cavorting with females is worse for a player's stamina than smoking. It was difficult to monitor, so they substituted the playoff beard tradition. Canadian women might consort with a bruised and battered, toothless hockey player. That's why we have light switches and room-darkening shades. But canoodling with a scratchy beard may explain why Canada's birth rate declines 40 weeks after the hockey playoffs.
Playoff beards also provide comic relief. Wispy facial follicles combine with the typical Canadian mullet to give that 80s porn star look to the younger players. "Goal by Dirk Diggler!"
Instant Dentistry - Last Sunday, a Chicago Black Hawk stopped a slap shot with his face, depositing eight teeth and a considerable amount of blood on the ice. Remarkably, he returned to the game twenty minutes later. Those of us south of the border demand anaesthesia or Novocaine for tooth removal and take the rest of the day off from work. This may explain why we lost the Olympic Hockey Final.
Post-Game Handshake - After the final game of the series, the teams line up and shake hands on the ice. Alas, this sort of sportsmanship ceases in US athletics when we get past the level where it is immediately followed by team snacks provided by someone's Mom. Last night, Philly's Chris Pronger hacked at a Montreal players face with his stick. Since he drew blood, a penalty was called. Had he just knocked a few teeth loose, it would have been "Play on". In the post-game line up, Pronger and the Montreal player not only shook hands but did the awkward "man hug". "A few inches higher on that stick slash and it would be your eyeball rolling on the ice, but we're cool, eh? How about a Labatt's sometime?"
And you wonder why we couldn't successfully invade these guys in 1812? Canadians are tough!
There are certain proud, uniquely Canadian traditions involved in the NHL playoffs:
Playoff beards - To promote team unity, the players refuse to shave until their team is eliminated. In years past, coaches attempted to enforce a "no sex during the playoffs" rule. Cavorting with females is worse for a player's stamina than smoking. It was difficult to monitor, so they substituted the playoff beard tradition. Canadian women might consort with a bruised and battered, toothless hockey player. That's why we have light switches and room-darkening shades. But canoodling with a scratchy beard may explain why Canada's birth rate declines 40 weeks after the hockey playoffs.
Playoff beards also provide comic relief. Wispy facial follicles combine with the typical Canadian mullet to give that 80s porn star look to the younger players. "Goal by Dirk Diggler!"
Instant Dentistry - Last Sunday, a Chicago Black Hawk stopped a slap shot with his face, depositing eight teeth and a considerable amount of blood on the ice. Remarkably, he returned to the game twenty minutes later. Those of us south of the border demand anaesthesia or Novocaine for tooth removal and take the rest of the day off from work. This may explain why we lost the Olympic Hockey Final.
Post-Game Handshake - After the final game of the series, the teams line up and shake hands on the ice. Alas, this sort of sportsmanship ceases in US athletics when we get past the level where it is immediately followed by team snacks provided by someone's Mom. Last night, Philly's Chris Pronger hacked at a Montreal players face with his stick. Since he drew blood, a penalty was called. Had he just knocked a few teeth loose, it would have been "Play on". In the post-game line up, Pronger and the Montreal player not only shook hands but did the awkward "man hug". "A few inches higher on that stick slash and it would be your eyeball rolling on the ice, but we're cool, eh? How about a Labatt's sometime?"
And you wonder why we couldn't successfully invade these guys in 1812? Canadians are tough!
Monday, May 24, 2010
Ronald vs. The King
The Marlboro Man and Joe Camel have gone by the boards. Now those Goody Two Shoes out there have set their sights on Ronald McDonald. Corporate Accountability International stated, "Ronald McDonald is a pied piper drawing youngsters all over the world to food that is high in fat, sodium, and calories. On the surface, he is there to give children enjoyment in all sorts of ways, but Ronald McDonald is dangerous, sending insidious messages to young people!"
Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection tells us that children who follow a clown to fat, sodium, and calorie-laden foods will not survive to reproduce. This problem will take care of itself. In time, Mayor McCheese will have no constituency,
Alas, Ronald has been around for nearly 50 years. Preservatives in those fries and Shamrock Shakes must be overcoming that fat and sodium to allow new generations to enter the Golden Arches.
McDonald's CEO responded with a stirring endorsement of America's Favorite Clown, "Ronald communicates effectively with children and families around balanced, active lifestyles. He does not hawk food."
I've not seen a Ronald McDonald TV commercial in some time. Perhaps, he is touting balanced, active lifestyles nowadays. Could it be that the true Pied Piper leading our children to obesity and a questionable lifestyle is Ronald's chief competitor - the Burger King? I've seen plenty of TV commercials where the BK places money in people's pockets, breaks into McDonald's HQ to steal recipes, and generally causes mayhem while clad in white tights and Mary Jane shoes, his face hidden behind a plastic mask.
Is this the message to send to our youth? Is it OK for a fully-grown man to dress like a 3 year old girl on Christmas Eve? Bear in mind that if those Mary Janes are patent leather, the reflection allows perverts to see right up your skirt (or tunic, in this case). The plastic mask is a subliminal endorsement of botox. When that first crow's foot appears, kids, it's time to freeze your face like Joan Rivers!
Perhaps, Corporate Accountability International is barking up the wrong tree. I'd rather see future generations of our fat, sodium, and calorie-consuming youth admiring a clown than a gender-confused, botox-obsessed, mime "king".
Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection tells us that children who follow a clown to fat, sodium, and calorie-laden foods will not survive to reproduce. This problem will take care of itself. In time, Mayor McCheese will have no constituency,
Alas, Ronald has been around for nearly 50 years. Preservatives in those fries and Shamrock Shakes must be overcoming that fat and sodium to allow new generations to enter the Golden Arches.
McDonald's CEO responded with a stirring endorsement of America's Favorite Clown, "Ronald communicates effectively with children and families around balanced, active lifestyles. He does not hawk food."
I've not seen a Ronald McDonald TV commercial in some time. Perhaps, he is touting balanced, active lifestyles nowadays. Could it be that the true Pied Piper leading our children to obesity and a questionable lifestyle is Ronald's chief competitor - the Burger King? I've seen plenty of TV commercials where the BK places money in people's pockets, breaks into McDonald's HQ to steal recipes, and generally causes mayhem while clad in white tights and Mary Jane shoes, his face hidden behind a plastic mask.
Is this the message to send to our youth? Is it OK for a fully-grown man to dress like a 3 year old girl on Christmas Eve? Bear in mind that if those Mary Janes are patent leather, the reflection allows perverts to see right up your skirt (or tunic, in this case). The plastic mask is a subliminal endorsement of botox. When that first crow's foot appears, kids, it's time to freeze your face like Joan Rivers!
Perhaps, Corporate Accountability International is barking up the wrong tree. I'd rather see future generations of our fat, sodium, and calorie-consuming youth admiring a clown than a gender-confused, botox-obsessed, mime "king".
Friday, May 21, 2010
Syrup Footprint
I have a love / hate relationship with pancakes. The Army cooks I served with never quite got the hang of eliminating lumps in the batter. Fluffy goodness was ruined by granular solids mid-chew. Fortunately, a strong infusion of syrup made it all palatable. It's likely that my "syrup footprint" is a contributor to global warming though. How many maple trees had to sacrifice their precious sap and failed to cover Vermont mountainsides just because I didn't want batter between my teeth? It's the moral equivalent of driving a Hummer to pick up the mail at the end of the driveway. I swore off pancakes.
The folks at International House of Pancakes may bring me back into the fold. Recent TV commercials show IHOP's Cheescake Pancakes, in essence a pancake sandwich with conventional flapjacks surrounding a thick layer of cheesecake innards and topped with what appears to be whipped cream and a fruit compote.
Though IHOP is noted for four (count 'em, four) syrups available on each and every table top, no syrup is required for this new menu item. Syrup plus cheesecake, whipped cream, and fruit would put Gandhi into diabetic shock. Maple trees of the world rejoice! Keep your sap. Grow strong and tall. Purify our air and provide shelter for those adorable woodland creatures.
Also, IHOP's profits are sure to zoom due to decreased syrup costs. It's a true win - win - win. Good for the environment, good for business and a boon to mediocre cooks everywhere.
The folks at International House of Pancakes may bring me back into the fold. Recent TV commercials show IHOP's Cheescake Pancakes, in essence a pancake sandwich with conventional flapjacks surrounding a thick layer of cheesecake innards and topped with what appears to be whipped cream and a fruit compote.
Though IHOP is noted for four (count 'em, four) syrups available on each and every table top, no syrup is required for this new menu item. Syrup plus cheesecake, whipped cream, and fruit would put Gandhi into diabetic shock. Maple trees of the world rejoice! Keep your sap. Grow strong and tall. Purify our air and provide shelter for those adorable woodland creatures.
Also, IHOP's profits are sure to zoom due to decreased syrup costs. It's a true win - win - win. Good for the environment, good for business and a boon to mediocre cooks everywhere.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
My Permanent Record
A recent Dilbert strip brought back fond memories. Evil HR Director Catbert informs the Clueless Pointy-Haired Boss that "We can keep our payroll expenses low by giving employees bad reviews. Use this list of employee defects so you don't repeat yourself. It's less obvious this way."
The Boss then states to Dilbert, "Awkward, bumbling, cowardly, dumb..." and Dilbert replies, "My faults are suspiciously alphabetical."
That is not far off the mark. Every review I ever had both in the corporate and military worlds had strong negativity. Initially, I took it to heart. After all, this stuff is going on My Permanent Record along with that embarrassing milk spilling incident from 3rd grade recess, the time I forgot my gym clothes in 10th grade, that minor explosion in Freshman Chemistry Lab, and the time I vomited after a three-mile run in Basic Training. What if my Mom finds out?
One day, I noted a pamphlet from HR on the boss's desk before my Quarterly Performance Review. He wasn't around, so I sneaked a peek. It stated in no uncertain terms that faults of some sort must be recorded and that no ratings shall exceed 3.0 on a 4.0 scale. Only general managers and higher can receive a 3.5.
It's all a game and it's rigged. I mentioned my finding to a co-worker who was a West Point grad. He gave me a "You finally figured that out" look. He mentioned that the Army's Officer Efficiency Ratings were the same deal. West Pointers take care of their fellows and know that the few negative comments are superceded by a few "magic words" like aggressive, decisive, military bearing, etc. Computers actually "read" the OERs and score them based on "magic words" minus "negative words".
I hope that My Permanent Record wherever it currently abides has enough "magic words" to overcome that milk-spilling thing. It really wasn't my fault. Jimmy Rabiega knocked it out of my hand, I tell you.
The Boss then states to Dilbert, "Awkward, bumbling, cowardly, dumb..." and Dilbert replies, "My faults are suspiciously alphabetical."
That is not far off the mark. Every review I ever had both in the corporate and military worlds had strong negativity. Initially, I took it to heart. After all, this stuff is going on My Permanent Record along with that embarrassing milk spilling incident from 3rd grade recess, the time I forgot my gym clothes in 10th grade, that minor explosion in Freshman Chemistry Lab, and the time I vomited after a three-mile run in Basic Training. What if my Mom finds out?
One day, I noted a pamphlet from HR on the boss's desk before my Quarterly Performance Review. He wasn't around, so I sneaked a peek. It stated in no uncertain terms that faults of some sort must be recorded and that no ratings shall exceed 3.0 on a 4.0 scale. Only general managers and higher can receive a 3.5.
It's all a game and it's rigged. I mentioned my finding to a co-worker who was a West Point grad. He gave me a "You finally figured that out" look. He mentioned that the Army's Officer Efficiency Ratings were the same deal. West Pointers take care of their fellows and know that the few negative comments are superceded by a few "magic words" like aggressive, decisive, military bearing, etc. Computers actually "read" the OERs and score them based on "magic words" minus "negative words".
I hope that My Permanent Record wherever it currently abides has enough "magic words" to overcome that milk-spilling thing. It really wasn't my fault. Jimmy Rabiega knocked it out of my hand, I tell you.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
The Greatest Prank Ever
The 21st century has to be the Golden Age for Pranks and we have technology to thank.
The invention of the doorbell led to the classic Flaming Bag of Poop on the Doorstep and Ring the Doorbell. The Crank Call ("Is your refrigerator running? Well, you'd better catch it!") needed the telephone.
Now we have the Internet and iPhone access to it. A recent TV commercial shows a harried Mom on the road to the airport, shepherding her family to a vacation. With her trusty iPhone, she confirms flight reservations, scopes out airport restaurants, and even chooses the movie that her little ones will watch in flight. Her doltish husband asks, "Did we remember to turn off the lights at home?" Through the magic of the Interweb, her iPhone indicates that that her home is lit up like Times Square on New Year's Eve. With a touch, she saves countless Kilowatt hours. The iPhone confirms "Lights Out".
Wouldn't this "app" be an ideal platform for pranksters? Let's say that Mom and Dad are out on the town leaving little Josh and Tiffany with Grandma as baby sitter. Teen Brandon is allowed to hang with his miscreant buddies as long as he is home by 11 and has the family's back-up iPhone with him. Brandon waits until past the little ones' bedtime, then repeatedly hits the Home Lights switch on his iPhone. The kids wake up screaming. Grandma makes panic calls to, in no particular order, the police, the power company, and the Vatican ("Send an exorcist! The Devil is in the wires of this house.). The wacky neighbors rush into the street certain that a UFO has landed in Brandon's backyard.
All in all, it would only be The Greatest Prank Ever. Thanks, Steve Jobs!
The invention of the doorbell led to the classic Flaming Bag of Poop on the Doorstep and Ring the Doorbell. The Crank Call ("Is your refrigerator running? Well, you'd better catch it!") needed the telephone.
Now we have the Internet and iPhone access to it. A recent TV commercial shows a harried Mom on the road to the airport, shepherding her family to a vacation. With her trusty iPhone, she confirms flight reservations, scopes out airport restaurants, and even chooses the movie that her little ones will watch in flight. Her doltish husband asks, "Did we remember to turn off the lights at home?" Through the magic of the Interweb, her iPhone indicates that that her home is lit up like Times Square on New Year's Eve. With a touch, she saves countless Kilowatt hours. The iPhone confirms "Lights Out".
Wouldn't this "app" be an ideal platform for pranksters? Let's say that Mom and Dad are out on the town leaving little Josh and Tiffany with Grandma as baby sitter. Teen Brandon is allowed to hang with his miscreant buddies as long as he is home by 11 and has the family's back-up iPhone with him. Brandon waits until past the little ones' bedtime, then repeatedly hits the Home Lights switch on his iPhone. The kids wake up screaming. Grandma makes panic calls to, in no particular order, the police, the power company, and the Vatican ("Send an exorcist! The Devil is in the wires of this house.). The wacky neighbors rush into the street certain that a UFO has landed in Brandon's backyard.
All in all, it would only be The Greatest Prank Ever. Thanks, Steve Jobs!
Monday, May 17, 2010
Take Over The World
The fertile mind of Dan Brown gave us:
"The DaVinci Code" - The Priory of Sion has a plot to blackmail world leaders and take over the world!
"Angels and Demons" - The Iluminati has a plot to blackmail world leaders and take over the world!
"The Lost Symbol" - The Freemasons have a plot to blackmail world leaders and take over the world!
Now, Dan Brown and Tom Hanks don't need a new blockbuster book / movie plot line. Still, my inner Robert Langdon kicked in while attending graduation ceremonies this weekend. What if a shadowy, all-powerful organization is plotting to "get the goods" on the Class of 2010, patiently wait until those 2010ers become world leaders, blackmail them, and, what else?, take over the world!
But there are hundreds of thousands of graduates this year. Who can foresee which of them will be world leaders thirty years hence? Here's where the plotters show true genius. They will possess embarrassing photographs of each and every member of the Class of 2010!
"President (or CEO) (or Chief Justice) (or Admiral) Smith, do as we say, or we will release to the press (and place on You Tube) this photo of you dressed on an ill-fitting gown, wearing a ridiculous hat, sweating like a pig, and receiving your degree back in 2010. Close inspection reveals that you wore flip-flops on that day. And that hair style! You'll be laughed out of the Oval Office!"
"Oh, your spinmeisters will quote the Graduation Program page on "Academic Attire". Does anyone really believe that medieval scholars wore ugly black gowns to keep warm in those drafty lecture halls at the Sorbonne? It took until 2009 before TV infomercials brought us "Snuggie", the blanket with arm holes. Graduation gowns are the same thing and you wear them outdoors under the broiling sun? Graduation gowns are our idea."
"According to the "Academic Attire" blurb, those mortarboard hats marked medieval youth as scholars and cleverly served as portable desks? Guess what? They had real desks back then. We chose those hats because they look ridiculous on anyone. Our second choice was the bicycle helmet."
"We have the photo of you receiving your degree. Remember that shady-looking guy with the camera? He was our man. To cover our costs, we sell prints to your parents, but we keep the originals."
This could be Robert Langdon's toughest case yet.
"The DaVinci Code" - The Priory of Sion has a plot to blackmail world leaders and take over the world!
"Angels and Demons" - The Iluminati has a plot to blackmail world leaders and take over the world!
"The Lost Symbol" - The Freemasons have a plot to blackmail world leaders and take over the world!
Now, Dan Brown and Tom Hanks don't need a new blockbuster book / movie plot line. Still, my inner Robert Langdon kicked in while attending graduation ceremonies this weekend. What if a shadowy, all-powerful organization is plotting to "get the goods" on the Class of 2010, patiently wait until those 2010ers become world leaders, blackmail them, and, what else?, take over the world!
But there are hundreds of thousands of graduates this year. Who can foresee which of them will be world leaders thirty years hence? Here's where the plotters show true genius. They will possess embarrassing photographs of each and every member of the Class of 2010!
"President (or CEO) (or Chief Justice) (or Admiral) Smith, do as we say, or we will release to the press (and place on You Tube) this photo of you dressed on an ill-fitting gown, wearing a ridiculous hat, sweating like a pig, and receiving your degree back in 2010. Close inspection reveals that you wore flip-flops on that day. And that hair style! You'll be laughed out of the Oval Office!"
"Oh, your spinmeisters will quote the Graduation Program page on "Academic Attire". Does anyone really believe that medieval scholars wore ugly black gowns to keep warm in those drafty lecture halls at the Sorbonne? It took until 2009 before TV infomercials brought us "Snuggie", the blanket with arm holes. Graduation gowns are the same thing and you wear them outdoors under the broiling sun? Graduation gowns are our idea."
"According to the "Academic Attire" blurb, those mortarboard hats marked medieval youth as scholars and cleverly served as portable desks? Guess what? They had real desks back then. We chose those hats because they look ridiculous on anyone. Our second choice was the bicycle helmet."
"We have the photo of you receiving your degree. Remember that shady-looking guy with the camera? He was our man. To cover our costs, we sell prints to your parents, but we keep the originals."
This could be Robert Langdon's toughest case yet.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Non-Threatening Boys
Lisa keeps track of her pre-teen idols via "Non-Threatening Boys" magazine on "The Simpsons". Having passed by "Tiger Beat" and its ilk in the checkout aisle for lo these many years, "non-threatening boys" is not far from the mark. David Cassidy, Jackson 5-era Michael. or those kids who sang "M-m-m-Bop" are, from a parental perspective, safe objects of pre-teen affection.
What are we to make of the latest pre-teen idol, Justin Bieber? The lad had the #1 and #2 best-selling CDs last month. Riots ensued at his personal appearances in Australia. Kim Kardshian received death treats after mingling with him at the recent White House Correspondent's Dinner. (On a side note. one could justify Justin Bieber's invitation to the White House. What good is it being First Daughters if you can't wrangle an invite for your idol? But who insisted that Kim Kardashian be on the Guest List?)
Personally, I find Justin's side swept hair-do a tad too reminiscent of Donald Trump's classic comb-over. But that's just envy.
Young Mr Bieber cemented his claim to the hearts (and wallets) of American mothers yesterday with an appearance on "Oprah". Pre-teens can whine all they want for Justin CDs, posters, and paraphernalia, but Mom has to pay. Now, with the coveted Oprah Seal of Approval, the financial floodgates are open. There's a reason why Borders and Barnes & Noble put those Oprah's Book Club Selection tomes on the front shelves.
"Non-threatening boy" status is great while it lasts, but where are Donnie Osmond and Leif Garrett today? On the other hand, The Oprah Seal of Approval is forever. A couple of years ago, I was shocked to see that "Anna Karenina" was riding high on the NY Times Best Seller List. Had Tolstoy somehow come back to life and written a new ending? Had America suddenly embraced 800 page Russian novels?
Actually, Oprah selected it for her Book Club and it still is an Amazon best-seller. We will be seeing Justin Bieber for a long, long while.
What are we to make of the latest pre-teen idol, Justin Bieber? The lad had the #1 and #2 best-selling CDs last month. Riots ensued at his personal appearances in Australia. Kim Kardshian received death treats after mingling with him at the recent White House Correspondent's Dinner. (On a side note. one could justify Justin Bieber's invitation to the White House. What good is it being First Daughters if you can't wrangle an invite for your idol? But who insisted that Kim Kardashian be on the Guest List?)
Personally, I find Justin's side swept hair-do a tad too reminiscent of Donald Trump's classic comb-over. But that's just envy.
Young Mr Bieber cemented his claim to the hearts (and wallets) of American mothers yesterday with an appearance on "Oprah". Pre-teens can whine all they want for Justin CDs, posters, and paraphernalia, but Mom has to pay. Now, with the coveted Oprah Seal of Approval, the financial floodgates are open. There's a reason why Borders and Barnes & Noble put those Oprah's Book Club Selection tomes on the front shelves.
"Non-threatening boy" status is great while it lasts, but where are Donnie Osmond and Leif Garrett today? On the other hand, The Oprah Seal of Approval is forever. A couple of years ago, I was shocked to see that "Anna Karenina" was riding high on the NY Times Best Seller List. Had Tolstoy somehow come back to life and written a new ending? Had America suddenly embraced 800 page Russian novels?
Actually, Oprah selected it for her Book Club and it still is an Amazon best-seller. We will be seeing Justin Bieber for a long, long while.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Finger Pointing
Congressional hearings are scheduled for the Louisiana Oil Spill. Now the finger pointing begins. "It's not our fault," says BP. "It was that darn blow-out preventer." The manufacturer of the blow-out preventer says, "It's not our fault. It was the outfit that operated the rig. They didn't install our device properly." The outfit that operated the rig says, "It's not our fault. We followed accepted industry practice."
Apparently, it was no one's fault.
How, then, are we to insure that something like this doesn't happen again? The government of India has the answer
In 1984, a fertilizer plant operated by Union Carbide in Bhopal, India exploded. An estimated 3,000 people died in its immediate aftermath and resultant toxin releases may have killed ten times that many. Union Carbide's response was, "It's not our fault. It was sabotage. It was native Indian contractors improperly installing safety relief devices. We followed accepted industrial practice."
The Indian government's response was, "We are filing criminal charges against Union Carbide. The first Union Carbide exec that steps off a plane in India will be immediately arrested and imprisoned for trial. (By the way, the trial will be held in Bhopal under our laws. Good luck getting acquitted. You've heard of The Black Hole of Calcutta? That will be Club Med compared to what we have planned for you).
A shock wave went through the American Chemical Industry. I was working on three projects at the time and was informed, "Hold it right there. Corporate requires an immediate and complete safety review. Sure, it takes time and will cost money, but as good corporate citizens, it's our duty. Also, we don't want to get arrested."
From that point forward, every project got an intense Process Hazards Review. For one of my projects, the PHR extended its schedule by 25% and cost $250K in safety stuff that seemed superfluous, but in the 26 years since Bhopal, there has not been a single disaster at an American-designed chemical plant.
Is off-shore drilling inherently hazardous? Can it be made safe? Based on Bhopal, one way to insure that "accepted industry practice" works is to hold criminal charges over the head of corporate decison-makers.
Apparently, it was no one's fault.
How, then, are we to insure that something like this doesn't happen again? The government of India has the answer
In 1984, a fertilizer plant operated by Union Carbide in Bhopal, India exploded. An estimated 3,000 people died in its immediate aftermath and resultant toxin releases may have killed ten times that many. Union Carbide's response was, "It's not our fault. It was sabotage. It was native Indian contractors improperly installing safety relief devices. We followed accepted industrial practice."
The Indian government's response was, "We are filing criminal charges against Union Carbide. The first Union Carbide exec that steps off a plane in India will be immediately arrested and imprisoned for trial. (By the way, the trial will be held in Bhopal under our laws. Good luck getting acquitted. You've heard of The Black Hole of Calcutta? That will be Club Med compared to what we have planned for you).
A shock wave went through the American Chemical Industry. I was working on three projects at the time and was informed, "Hold it right there. Corporate requires an immediate and complete safety review. Sure, it takes time and will cost money, but as good corporate citizens, it's our duty. Also, we don't want to get arrested."
From that point forward, every project got an intense Process Hazards Review. For one of my projects, the PHR extended its schedule by 25% and cost $250K in safety stuff that seemed superfluous, but in the 26 years since Bhopal, there has not been a single disaster at an American-designed chemical plant.
Is off-shore drilling inherently hazardous? Can it be made safe? Based on Bhopal, one way to insure that "accepted industry practice" works is to hold criminal charges over the head of corporate decison-makers.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Rock, Paper, Scissors
We aging athletes face a dilemma. We still desire the thrill of victory but our aching joints lead only to the agony of defeat. For every Jamie Moyer pitching a shutout at age 47, there is a Tiger Woods bailing out of a golf tournament with a stiff neck. Surely, there is a competition in which we can still excel.
Our Canadian friends may have discovered the answer. Toronto recently hosted The World-Wide Rock, Paper, Scissors Championship, Apparently, there is not much else to do during those long winters north of the border if you can't skate and have a healthy fear of frozen rubber discs hurtling toward your face at 100 mph.
The winner, a 62 year old Canadian, revealed his secrets of success:
Young males prefer to go "rock". Respond first with "paper".
No one ever goes with the same "throw" three times in a row.
Watch for "tell-tales" in hand position during the "1 - 2 - 3". Like poker layers reading opponent's eyes or body language, the best R-P-Sers study opponents hands for a tell-tale clench that implies an upcoming rock, finger extension for scissors or palm flattening for paper.
Now, R-P-S may not do much for cardiovascular fitness, but it requires neither expensive equipment nor club memberships. It is certainly a "lifetime sport". A potential problem is "R-P-S Shoulder", a stiffening of that joint due to repetitive use, but true aficionados can "play through the pain" or switch to their left arm.
All in all, it's R-P-S for me.
Our Canadian friends may have discovered the answer. Toronto recently hosted The World-Wide Rock, Paper, Scissors Championship, Apparently, there is not much else to do during those long winters north of the border if you can't skate and have a healthy fear of frozen rubber discs hurtling toward your face at 100 mph.
The winner, a 62 year old Canadian, revealed his secrets of success:
Young males prefer to go "rock". Respond first with "paper".
No one ever goes with the same "throw" three times in a row.
Watch for "tell-tales" in hand position during the "1 - 2 - 3". Like poker layers reading opponent's eyes or body language, the best R-P-Sers study opponents hands for a tell-tale clench that implies an upcoming rock, finger extension for scissors or palm flattening for paper.
Now, R-P-S may not do much for cardiovascular fitness, but it requires neither expensive equipment nor club memberships. It is certainly a "lifetime sport". A potential problem is "R-P-S Shoulder", a stiffening of that joint due to repetitive use, but true aficionados can "play through the pain" or switch to their left arm.
All in all, it's R-P-S for me.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Only in America
Dorney Park opened last weekend. Management must have thought long and hard how to draw crowds on a spring weekend with questionable weather and the park's newest attraction "The Demon Drop" not ready.
It could have sponsored a "Titanic"- themed contest in which Leonardo DiCaprio wanna-bes immerse themselves in the chilly waters of Wild Water Kingdom's splashdown area and recite lines from the movie to their lady loves floating on a piece of flotsam (or possibly jetsam) nearby. Last one standing (technically treading water) before hypothermia closes their lips forever wins!
By the way, what is the difference between flotsam and jetsam, other than jetsam sounds so much cooler? This is why we have dictionaries. "Flotsam" is defined as "the floating wreckage of a ship" while "jetsam" is "part of a ship cast overboard in time of stress to lighten the load". One wonders whether if the shall-we-say Rubensesque Kate Winslet had been cast overboard as jetsam after the ship struck the iceberg, the Titanic might have retained sufficient buoyancy to limp into port.
Dorney Park management decided instead on a Major League Competitive Eating Event in the class of the Nathan's 4th of July Hot Dog Eating Contest. Winner Joey Chestnut devoured 19 cheesesteaks in 10 minutes. The runners-up consumed 16, 14.5, and 12.5 respectively. With the average cheese steak containing 700 calories plus 25% and 80% of the RDAs for cholesterol and sodium respectively, Mr Chestnut consumed 13,200 calories and enough cholesterol and sodium to last him nearly five and fifteen days respectively ALL IN TEN MINUTES.
Only in America! There are, no doubt, entire villages in Africa that don't consume 13,200 calories in a day
Still, competitive eating will never break into America's sports consciousness (and the big bucks of network TV contracts) without a gimmick. After all, professional wrestling wasn't big until Steel Cage Death Matches put it onto pay-per-view. Many competitive eating events already take place at amusement parks. Why not complete the competition with repeated plunges on a Demon Drop? Cheesesteaks consumed plus Demon Drop Plunges until Regurgitation equals Final Score. This not only provides a suspense-filled conclusion but will save the innards of the competitors.
It could have sponsored a "Titanic"- themed contest in which Leonardo DiCaprio wanna-bes immerse themselves in the chilly waters of Wild Water Kingdom's splashdown area and recite lines from the movie to their lady loves floating on a piece of flotsam (or possibly jetsam) nearby. Last one standing (technically treading water) before hypothermia closes their lips forever wins!
By the way, what is the difference between flotsam and jetsam, other than jetsam sounds so much cooler? This is why we have dictionaries. "Flotsam" is defined as "the floating wreckage of a ship" while "jetsam" is "part of a ship cast overboard in time of stress to lighten the load". One wonders whether if the shall-we-say Rubensesque Kate Winslet had been cast overboard as jetsam after the ship struck the iceberg, the Titanic might have retained sufficient buoyancy to limp into port.
Dorney Park management decided instead on a Major League Competitive Eating Event in the class of the Nathan's 4th of July Hot Dog Eating Contest. Winner Joey Chestnut devoured 19 cheesesteaks in 10 minutes. The runners-up consumed 16, 14.5, and 12.5 respectively. With the average cheese steak containing 700 calories plus 25% and 80% of the RDAs for cholesterol and sodium respectively, Mr Chestnut consumed 13,200 calories and enough cholesterol and sodium to last him nearly five and fifteen days respectively ALL IN TEN MINUTES.
Only in America! There are, no doubt, entire villages in Africa that don't consume 13,200 calories in a day
Still, competitive eating will never break into America's sports consciousness (and the big bucks of network TV contracts) without a gimmick. After all, professional wrestling wasn't big until Steel Cage Death Matches put it onto pay-per-view. Many competitive eating events already take place at amusement parks. Why not complete the competition with repeated plunges on a Demon Drop? Cheesesteaks consumed plus Demon Drop Plunges until Regurgitation equals Final Score. This not only provides a suspense-filled conclusion but will save the innards of the competitors.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Prom Legend
Google earns its billions with those one-line ads personalized by picking key words out of our searches and e-mails. Somehow, Google determined that I was in the market for prom-related merchandise (must be my youthful appearance). Yesterday, I found "The Converse Prom Collection - Add Sequins to Your Prom Experience!" above my e-mail inbox.
Now, the only Converse I know are those classic and admittedly ugly sneakers of my youth. How could canvas high-tops sequinned though they be add to the magic of That Special Evening? I clicked on to the link.
Lo and behold, The Converse Prom Collection includes:
High-top Chuck Taylor All-Stars, all canvas and rubber with the beloved ankle bone circle and sequinned to beat the band for $100.
Low-top Chucks, just like the Celtics used to wear except for the sequins at a bargain $85
Patent leather Chucks for the truly fashionable and sequin-phobic at $70
Metallic Chucks for those fearing patent leather up-skirt reflection at $75
What a "spit in the eye of convention" statement it would be to exit the rented limo on Prom Night in a frilly dress, upswept hairdo and "night makeup" in place, shod in Chuck Taylor All-Stars. "I couldn't get my shoes dyed to match my dress in time so I went with the Chucks".
From those seeking Prom Legend status, thank you Converse and thank you Google.
Now, the only Converse I know are those classic and admittedly ugly sneakers of my youth. How could canvas high-tops sequinned though they be add to the magic of That Special Evening? I clicked on to the link.
Lo and behold, The Converse Prom Collection includes:
High-top Chuck Taylor All-Stars, all canvas and rubber with the beloved ankle bone circle and sequinned to beat the band for $100.
Low-top Chucks, just like the Celtics used to wear except for the sequins at a bargain $85
Patent leather Chucks for the truly fashionable and sequin-phobic at $70
Metallic Chucks for those fearing patent leather up-skirt reflection at $75
What a "spit in the eye of convention" statement it would be to exit the rented limo on Prom Night in a frilly dress, upswept hairdo and "night makeup" in place, shod in Chuck Taylor All-Stars. "I couldn't get my shoes dyed to match my dress in time so I went with the Chucks".
From those seeking Prom Legend status, thank you Converse and thank you Google.
Monday, May 3, 2010
The Garden State!
New Jersey has been the butt of jokes forever. "You're from Jersey? What exit?" "It smells like New Jersey in here." "I got dis wudder ice down da Showah. Youse gotta problem wid dat?"
It turns out that Jerseyites should be laughing at the rest of pump-your-own-gas America. The Wall Street Journal reported that Asian Americans living in the Garden State live better than any other ethnic group in any other state based on overall health, education, and income. "New Jersey Asian Americans live, on average, an astonishing 26 years longer, are 11 times more likely to have a graduate degree, and earn $35K more annually than South Dakota Native Americans."
Now, there's an argument for the Ramapo Indians to require documentation for "suspicious-looking" immigrants invading their Jersey homeland.
Latinos also fared best in the Garden State, living longer and making $7 K more annually then their brethren in Alabama which ranked lowest. Apparently, Asian-Americans and Latinos get the hang of traffic circles and "jug handles" a lot quicker than other ethnic groups.
Washington, DC gets highest grades for white folk while West Virginia brings up the rear. "Almost Heaven?", "Wild and Wonderful?" Perhaps not.
African-Americans prosper in Maryland and do worst in Louisiana. Thank you very much, Katrina and now British Petroleum.
Maybe all those negative jokes are subterfuge and New Jersey actually is the best place to live in these United States. I never really enjoyed pumping my own gas anyway.
It turns out that Jerseyites should be laughing at the rest of pump-your-own-gas America. The Wall Street Journal reported that Asian Americans living in the Garden State live better than any other ethnic group in any other state based on overall health, education, and income. "New Jersey Asian Americans live, on average, an astonishing 26 years longer, are 11 times more likely to have a graduate degree, and earn $35K more annually than South Dakota Native Americans."
Now, there's an argument for the Ramapo Indians to require documentation for "suspicious-looking" immigrants invading their Jersey homeland.
Latinos also fared best in the Garden State, living longer and making $7 K more annually then their brethren in Alabama which ranked lowest. Apparently, Asian-Americans and Latinos get the hang of traffic circles and "jug handles" a lot quicker than other ethnic groups.
Washington, DC gets highest grades for white folk while West Virginia brings up the rear. "Almost Heaven?", "Wild and Wonderful?" Perhaps not.
African-Americans prosper in Maryland and do worst in Louisiana. Thank you very much, Katrina and now British Petroleum.
Maybe all those negative jokes are subterfuge and New Jersey actually is the best place to live in these United States. I never really enjoyed pumping my own gas anyway.
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